


Lesson Learned

by moodwriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 11:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is reckless. Derek teaches him a lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lesson Learned

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Banner by me
> 
> Betaed by the sweet [red_adam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/red_adam/pseuds/red_adam) again.

Stiles can only blame himself for this. He thought this could help, that it would give them an advantage against the Alpha pack. He thought wrong. 

It only made Derek angry. And an angry Derek is very unpredictable. 

Derek is pressed against him, snarling. “You stupid idiot.” Stiles recognizes the words even though they are more like growls, sounds low in Derek’s throat. 

“I want to help,” Stiles says over the music, trying to get free, but Derek is holding him down with ease, his hands curled around Stiles’ wrists. 

“You’re not a bait or a spy,” Derek whispers in his ear, his voice rough. “You smell like us. They’ll know.”

Stiles huffs.

He tried to sneak into enemy territory, tried to send a messages that he’s one of those willing human groupies who’d like to be bitten one day. He tried to infiltrate their pack. That was his plan, and he didn’t go to their favorite club unprepared. He asked Deaton to give him something that would make a werewolf weak for human touch, something that would give him the edge if things went wrong. 

And then Derek saw him dancing with a girl who they knew was hanging with the Alpha pack. Stiles was so good at playing the part of a heartsick teenager in need of a change, begging to be bitten, to feel included, and the girl bought his act. 

Except, Derek emerged from nowhere, and the girl disappeared before Stiles could even ask her name. 

They got nothing, and to top that, they are on enemy territory - and Derek won’t stop growling. 

“We need to leave,” Stiles says when the beat of the music drops slightly, becomes slow and seductive. “She might have recognized what you are.”

They haven’t seen any of the Alpha wolves yet, but they’ve gotten enough threats and trespassing into Derek’s territory. This could’ve worked. Stiles could’ve gotten vital information.

“You don’t listen,” Derek says, his teeth edging on Stiles’ jaw. 

Derek has never been this much up in his business, not even when they spent hours in the swimming pool huddled together. “You listen,” he whispers, knowing Derek can hear him. “We have to go, or soon, you won't be the only one growling here.”

“You think your plans always work. What would you have done if they’d figured you out?”

“Wolf pheromones,” he says carefully. “They would’ve eaten out of my hand in seconds.”

Derek pulls back, looks at him with glowing red eyes, then does something that shocks Stiles to the core. Derek shifts his weight and pushes a thigh between Stiles’ legs, rubbing against him, so warm Stiles’ mind whitens for a brief moment. 

“That’s even more dangerous,” Derek says next to Stiles’ cheek. “You have no idea what we’re like when we want something.”

Stiles opens his mouth, but he can’t inhale. He’s not comprehending any of this. 

People are dancing around them, lights flashing, and he feels the beat in his stomach, feels the heat of the body pressed against his own, and this can’t be his life. 

“You can’t control us.” Derek’s breath is hot against his skin. “You can’t control Alphas.”

He bites his lip because what the fuck? 

“We’ll want, but we won’t obey.” Derek bites Stiles’ jaw with blunt teeth, making him tilt his head back, biting the underside of his chin too, nothing about Derek soft or human, except the way he’s still holding the wolf back. “Don’t underestimate the beast.”

Stiles has to do something. This is insane. Derek is still pushing impossibly closer, his knee spreading Stiles more, exposing him. And it’s making him _want_. He tries to push the feeling away, knowing Derek can smell-taste-feel his arousal, and it’s a losing battle. He can’t... He can’t.

There’s a moment when something shifts, when Derek holds absolutely still, then moves against Stiles slowly, his hips rolling ever so slightly. 

Stiles bites down a whimper, but a part of it escapes his lips, and he feels the change, feels how it’s not a lesson anymore, and it’s just Derek holding his wrists, rutting against him, biting and licking his neck. 

He’s going to come from this, and he can’t help it, can’t help the desperation, can’t help any of it. He feels Derek pulling his leg up around his waist, feels Derek’s hair under his palms, between his fingers, and he twists, grabs hard because he can. 

There’s nothing complicated about it, nothing sweet, nothing warm, just rubbing, and panting, and more biting, bruising fingers against his waist, his arm, his stomach, Derek yanking him closer, needy noises stuttering out of his mouth, and Stiles drinks those sounds in, wanting. 

When he comes it’s starburst and a ridiculous amount of shaking and shivering, and it hurts, and he buries his face in Derek’s neck, groaning. 

He can’t believe this happened. He still can’t breathe. He can’t even think. 

There’s a panting werewolf holding him against the wall, and that makes Stiles realize he might also like guys, or at least werewolves who happen to have guy-parts. 

He’s happy he didn’t get to use the wolf pheromones on any of the Alphas. This would’ve been scary with anyone else. And that thought alone makes him panic. 

“You smell like sex,” Derek says against his neck, sounding light-headed. 

“Your fault.” He doesn’t know what made him say that, but he can’t take it back. 

He’s surprised by the sound that comes out of Derek’s mouth. It’s joy, even if it’s not quite laughter. “Yes,” Derek finally says, everything about the word possessive. 

Stiles realizes his fingers are curled around Derek’s leather jacket. He doesn’t want to let go, though, so he keeps his hands between them, holds on. “Take me home,” he says finally, and Derek lets out a sound that breaks his heart. It’s something between a whine and a word, maybe: _please_ , and Stiles wants to keep holding on.


End file.
